When we crawled out of the crawlspace, I was fully prepared for either a dead end or another dusty storage room.

  Instead, a long corridor stretched ahead of us.

  Long. Stone. Vaulted. Almost like the regular parts of the Academy… only the ceilings were lower, the air heavier, and the light duller. There were no torches here. Just occasional glowing crystals set into wall niches, dim and cold.

  I inhaled — and immediately regretted it. Breathing felt like trying to inhale syrup.

  Elvira grimaced.

  “Necrotic energy levels are high. Very high.”

  Ah yes. The pleasant atmosphere of “you would be dead if you were normal.” So, same as before. Just more concentrated.

  “Is this your big discovery?” Finn asked quietly. “The catacombs?”

  Elvira brushed her hand along the wall like she was checking for a heartbeat.

  “Don’t start.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  She exhaled.

  “Not exactly catacombs. I was looking for interworld gates.”

  I stopped.

  “You what?”

  “There’s an ancient underground city beneath the Academy,” she said quickly. “Older than everything above. There should be interworld gates there. They always hide the most interesting things from students.”

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  Finn swore softly.

  And I walked, thinking: this all began with “let’s walk the cat.” Cats walk themselves. Where is she, by the way? Vanished at the first sign of trouble. Loyal.

  The corridor branched. Rejoined. Branched again. The turns looked identical, the walls identical, the niches identical. The stone slabs underfoot were worn in places, cracked in others. This wasn’t a basement, it was a maze designed by someone who hated people.

  Sometimes we came upon halls — circular, elongated, with collapsed columns or remnants of old arches. Everything was neglected, but not entirely dead. Somewhere water dripped. Somewhere there was a faint hum, as though something large was slowly shifting beneath the earth.

  Eventually we entered a hall that felt different. Larger. Wider. Higher ceiling.

  But the neglect here felt different — not abandonment, but traces. The floor was covered in dust and small stones, yet uneven furrows stretched across the centre, as if something heavy had been dragged along it.

  “Another storage room?” Finn tried to joke.

  “No,” Elvira said quietly. “Someone’s been here. Recently.”

  I stepped closer. Dark stains were clearly visible in the dust. Dried. Almost brown. Something inside me tightened unpleasantly.

  “So… we keep looking for an exit?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.

  “Wait,” Elvira crouched. “That’s blood.”

  “Please don’t say fresh,” Finn exhaled.

  “No,” she shook her head. “Not fresh. But not ancient either.”

  Which is significantly worse. That means someone walked here recently.

  We moved deeper into the chamber, and with every step it grew quieter. Even the distant dripping water seemed to fade.

  The air changed first - not colder. Emptier. As if something had drawn the sound out of it. I felt it along my spine before I heard anything. As though someone were standing directly behind us.

  Slowly, I turned.

  They did not step out from behind a column.

  Did not emerge from shadow.

  They simply… formed. Like dense smoke pulling itself into a silhouette. The contours were humanoid, but not quite. A ribcages seemed to show through the mist. Ribs not bone, but dark lines. The faces blurred.

  Only the eyes were clear — crimson, like embers deep in ash.

  An icy cold surrounded them. They moved with a strange hissing sound, as if something invisible were tearing through thin fabric.

  The figures swayed, as though considering which of us to begin with.